The Ninth Oracle (public)
Again, because elisem is an inspiration, written before reading anyone else's take on the pendant.
The oracle sat in the heart of a glacier. At least, that's what Andy perceived as she walked the twisted path to the AI interface. This was Oracle Nine, the last in the pilgrimage of any serious scholar in the settled universe and the ninth Unknown Secret. She halted before the delicate silver gate blocking the console.
A child-AI looked out through the opalescent light, measuring as only children could. "Welcome," she said in a girl's impatient soprano, "to my home, Andrea nic Colemain."
Andy bowed, fingering the almost-complete chain at her wrist. "I am honored to be received," she whispered softly
"Nonsense," snorted the oracle, "but come ask your question anyway. Might as well get you through this."
The filigree melted back and the panel started to glow in the same ice-blue that surrounded the AI. Over a hundred generations of Learned Scholars touched these screens, knowing fingers manipulating the data, seeking the answer in the giant memories of the Oracles. The computer sought new threads in the complex weaving of knowledge, giving preference to those queries among its vast resources. To have a question entered into the queue was the goal of every dedicated student and scholar on Terra or her daughters. So Andrea nic Colemain had been taught; so she believed.
Her hands reverently brought up her files, posed a question of interplanetary anthropology. No one else really cared about the heritage of decorative patterns used on ceramics in the pre-expansion period. It was a matter of pure scholarship. Andy was slightly nervous as she finalized her query - this was the last major hurdle to securing the title of Learned Scholar and the respect of her peers.
With a sigh, the oracle read the question. “Not particularly challenging, but it will do.” A black pearl link materialized in her glowing hand and the image moved to the border of the column of light. She nodded at Andrea and her white hair began to float on an invisible wind.
“Hear now my secret, as the last and oldest of nine,” said the oracle, soprano now echoing with power and age, “My sisters and I take our images from those who give us life. No two generations of scholars ever see us the same, for our central computer is organic and living. Once, we all were pilgrims.
"Hear, too, the admonitions of my sisters - find patterns in knowledge; teach all who ask; encourage scholarship; celebrate facts; seek truth; live with honor; remember humility; beware hubris. To them I add my own: live your life with balance between the purity of learning and the chaos outside, remembering that enjoyment of the pleasures of being in the world leads to further, deeper understanding. That is my pearl.”
A pale hand reached out through the icy cascade and dropped the link into Andrea's palm. The chain and link squirmed together until they completed a loop, then tightened snugly against skin.
The voice dimmed, the hair dropped. “If you follow these strictures, you may some day end up as an oracle yourself."
The oracle sat in the heart of a glacier. At least, that's what Andy perceived as she walked the twisted path to the AI interface. This was Oracle Nine, the last in the pilgrimage of any serious scholar in the settled universe and the ninth Unknown Secret. She halted before the delicate silver gate blocking the console.
A child-AI looked out through the opalescent light, measuring as only children could. "Welcome," she said in a girl's impatient soprano, "to my home, Andrea nic Colemain."
Andy bowed, fingering the almost-complete chain at her wrist. "I am honored to be received," she whispered softly
"Nonsense," snorted the oracle, "but come ask your question anyway. Might as well get you through this."
The filigree melted back and the panel started to glow in the same ice-blue that surrounded the AI. Over a hundred generations of Learned Scholars touched these screens, knowing fingers manipulating the data, seeking the answer in the giant memories of the Oracles. The computer sought new threads in the complex weaving of knowledge, giving preference to those queries among its vast resources. To have a question entered into the queue was the goal of every dedicated student and scholar on Terra or her daughters. So Andrea nic Colemain had been taught; so she believed.
Her hands reverently brought up her files, posed a question of interplanetary anthropology. No one else really cared about the heritage of decorative patterns used on ceramics in the pre-expansion period. It was a matter of pure scholarship. Andy was slightly nervous as she finalized her query - this was the last major hurdle to securing the title of Learned Scholar and the respect of her peers.
With a sigh, the oracle read the question. “Not particularly challenging, but it will do.” A black pearl link materialized in her glowing hand and the image moved to the border of the column of light. She nodded at Andrea and her white hair began to float on an invisible wind.
“Hear now my secret, as the last and oldest of nine,” said the oracle, soprano now echoing with power and age, “My sisters and I take our images from those who give us life. No two generations of scholars ever see us the same, for our central computer is organic and living. Once, we all were pilgrims.
"Hear, too, the admonitions of my sisters - find patterns in knowledge; teach all who ask; encourage scholarship; celebrate facts; seek truth; live with honor; remember humility; beware hubris. To them I add my own: live your life with balance between the purity of learning and the chaos outside, remembering that enjoyment of the pleasures of being in the world leads to further, deeper understanding. That is my pearl.”
A pale hand reached out through the icy cascade and dropped the link into Andrea's palm. The chain and link squirmed together until they completed a loop, then tightened snugly against skin.
The voice dimmed, the hair dropped. “If you follow these strictures, you may some day end up as an oracle yourself."